


Remedy for Distraction

by JessaLRynn



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Sex, F/M, Playing Doctor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Roleplay, Shameless Smut, Silly, stupid excuses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 14:56:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12914289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessaLRynn/pseuds/JessaLRynn
Summary: "...I'm absolutely certain they're part of a plot, trying to keep my mind off our plans at a critical moment, and I'm going to have to examine them thoroughly to determine how best to proceed."





	Remedy for Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote like 3000 words here, and forgot to put the plot in. *sighs* Oh, well, I'll get to it next time. Maybe.

It was remarkably clean for an alley (or more a cul-de-sac, really), but Rose supposed it was the staff of the pub at the bottom of the stairs that kept the place neat.  She and the Doctor were meant to be sneaking through the pub's series of secret tunnels into the home of a wealthy local businessman who had acquired a dangerous piece of alien tech.  Instead, they were in the darkest corner of the cul-de-sac, and the Doctor was, apparently, going to explain something, possibly something to do with why he'd been watching her so closely all afternoon long.  Rose was almost afraid he would try to tell her to stay behind.

His eyes wandered all over the summery sundress she was wearing, a pale and gauzy lightweight thing with a high waist and no sleeves or straps.  It was being held up only by a bit of elastic and Rose's anatomy, and she supposed it was a bit fragile for creeping about in and sneaking through tunnels.  All the same, she doubted it was possible to actually dress for everything that happened to them short of a full suit of armor, and then she'd still be vulnerable to magnets.  Rose much preferred to be comfortable.   At least her shoes were sensible – she wasn't crazy.  She waited.  He'd explain himself and them hiding in this dark corner soon enough.

The Doctor scooped his hands through his hair, making it wilder than ever.  He paced a few steps, then propped himself up against the wall with one arm, leaning very close to her where Rose stood with her arms folded stubbornly across her chest, crowded against the wall.  "There's just one thing, one last little, teeny problem," the Doctor began urgently.  "Well, I _say_ little, but I mean completely, totally huge.  Really big, massive problem that will not – and I mean _not_ – go away."

Rose stifled a chuckle and wondered if he knew how many sexual innuendos she could make out of some of the things he said some times.  She started to ask him what his massive problem was – in the most suggestive tone she could manage, possibly with hand gestures – when his distracted eyes glanced back up to meet hers and she wondered if maybe he was doing it on purpose.

"When I say one problem," he added, in a slightly slower, deeper tone, enough to make Rose's breath catch, "I mean, technically, two.  Exactly two, in fact.  No more, no less, two terrible, incredible, perfectly sized, perfectly shaped problems that are therefore causing one massive problem."

Rose grinned then, convinced he was up to something.  "What's wrong, Doctor?" she asked in the most helpful tone she could manage, feigning cluelessness, pretending innocence.

"It's your breasts," the Doctor said, frankly, eyeing the breasts in question with great interest. 

Rose shivered under the intensity of his gaze and her nipples peaked.  The Doctor pointed dramatically, eyes bright with mischief, face set on accusation.  "Yes, you see, there! They've been distracting me all night long, making it nearly impossible to think."  He looked up and met her eyes as he spoke with total sincerity.  "I'm absolutely certain they're part of a plot, trying to keep my mind off our plans at a critical moment, and I'm going to have to examine them thoroughly to determine how best to proceed."

Rose bit her lip to stop the giggle she desperately wanted to let loose at this point.  The Doctor grinned for a split second, then put on a very serious face, and his glasses.  Rose took a deep breath to control her amusement (not to mention her lust), but she pretended it was something else. "I'm sure you're right, Doctor," she said gravely, thrusting her shoulders back to look determined.  (Any incidental benefit was just that: incidental.)  "What do I need to do?"

"Brilliant!" he said with sparkle-eyed conviction.  "I knew I could count on you, Rose."  He wiped off a playful smile that danced onto his face at her best strong look.  "I'll need you to just lean back against the wall, love, with your arms above your head, and do everything the nice Doctor tells you."

She couldn't hold it, she just couldn't, and burst into peals of giggles.  The Doctor took off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirttail, and stuck them back on his nose, peering at her intently through them, huge eyes blinking in a feigned astonishment.  "Humm," he observed in his best scientist tone.  "The symptoms seem to be progressing.  Now the whole Rose is being pert and distracting."

Rose sniggered herself to a stop, took a deep breath, and did as she was told.  "I'm ready, Doctor," she said bravely. The granite-like wall a bit rough but not even uncomfortably so as she adjusted her stance against it.

His eyes took a long, leisurely tour of her body, stopping here and there and particularly there, his gaze a sensual touch she could almost feel.  By the time he reached her eyes, Rose was shivering under the intensity.  The Doctor's eyes were black, no idea where the dark pupil ended and the dark iris began, and Rose knew it wasn't the oncoming twilight causing that.  His tongue flicked out to trace his lips. 

Liquid heat shot through Rose, and arousal jumped to the forefront of her concern.  She returned his heated gaze with a wanton one, taking in his flushed features, his distractingly rumpled clothes.  Her eyes travelled south, lit finally on his straining erection.  He was already hard for her.  So he had been paying attention to her attempts to flirt with him tonight.  She whimpered.

The Doctor answered her with a smug smirk, and both hands spread around her rib cage, forefingers and thumbs set to frame the lower curve of her breasts.  "Comfortable weight," he observed thoughtfully.  His thumbs trailed up, brushed across the peaks, which ached at his touch.  "Nipples quite responsive."

"Oh god," she whispered, and let out a gaspy giggle.

The Doctor teased her nipples a moment longer with his thumbs, and then stepped back to consider.  "Yes, there's nothing for it.  It'll have to be a visual examination."

"Oh, of course," said Rose, unable to stop grinning, even as she wished he'd get on with it. 

"I know you want this problem over with, Rose," he said with calm understanding, "but you’re going to have to bear with me…"

"You bare with me," she punned, and reached a hand to toy with the knot in his tie.

"None of that, now," he ordered, though playfully, and he caught her wrist and tugged her hands up over her head again.

Rose sighed and wriggled at him.  "Doctor."

He held her arms up with one hand, using the other to lift one breast from the confines of her dress.  For a moment he just stared at it, then equalized things by pushing her dress down on the other side.  "Attractively colored areolae."  He blew on one and it puckered yet again and Rose grumbled a tiny protest.  "Responsive to atmospheric change…"

"Let me go and I'll show you change," Rose muttered.

The Doctor cleared his throat as if he was being interrupted in a perfectly normal educational lecture.  "One slightly larger than the other, which is slightly firmer."

"What?" she demanded, genuinely annoyed this time.

"Hush," the Doctor ordered.  "S'perfectly natural in human females."

Rose grumbled again – how _dare_ he? – and the Doctor apparently found it necessary to stop her talking this time.  His kiss gave the lie to his studious game, as fierce and hungry as he had ever kissed her, his cool lips branding her as his tongue dipped and delved and flickered into her mouth with no discernible pattern.  Rose raked her escaped hands through his hair, rocked her hips against him to find him hard against her belly, his own motion matching her insistently.

He broke away from her with a gasp, his breathing nearly as heavy as Rose's despite the good fortune of a respiratory bypass system.  "Rose," he said, still stubbornly pretending, "where are your hands supposed to be?"

She groaned and put one on his bum, the other firmly wedged between them, stroking his erection.  "Oh, gods, yes, right there," he muttered.

Rose nodded and kissed his shoulder, close as she could reach with how tall he was, keeping her hand busy as he pulsed and pushed against her.  Making the Doctor come in her hand… the very thought made Rose whimper.

The Doctor shook himself. "No, the wall," he insisted.

"Doctor," Rose protested, and gave a good squeeze.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he groaned, and punctuated those little noises with thrusts against her.  Rose wriggled her hips, trying to get closer.  He opened his eyes.  "Rose.   Play fair."

She giggled and considered disobeying him utterly, but the pleading look in his too dark eyes won her over.  Her hands went back on the wall, and she wasn't the only one who whimpered about that. 

"Now, how to cure these distractions from distracting me…" he mused.  Each huge hand cupped a small breast, toying with it, making Rose tremble against him.  "Ah ha!" he yelped.  "Got it!"

"Oh?" Rose wondered, looking around hastily to see if they had an audience.  There were religious obligations that kept everyone indoors today, for which Rose was grateful, since the Doctor would only stay quiet for so long.

"Yep!" the Doctor agreed.  "Time Lord saliva – probably just the thing."

Rose laughed merrily at this pronouncement, and the Doctor winked at her, and then she stopped laughing because she couldn't breathe.  His tongue curled around her nipple, tracing it, brushing it, lapping at it like a cat.  She groaned as he sucked it into his mouth, his fingers pinching the mate as his teeth nipped at the one. 

Just before she could take her hands down and put them in his hair, again, the Doctor's free hand snapped up and clamped over her wrists like a vice. He carried on his perusal of her breasts, lips and teeth and tongue making sure no bit of soft skin, from the pale untouched undersides, to the fine golden skin of her cleavage, went unexplored.  She was writhing against him, muttering incoherently, unable to think of anything but how good it felt and how it didn't quite feel good enough, even as he sucked one breast and thumbed the other in a rough, matching rhythm.

Then, the words started, as he pulled away, and he nipped at her for punctuation.  "You've been thinking about this all day," he murmured.  "I know you have, I've seen you, heard you, _smelt_ you.  You've wanted me to touch you, thought about me tasting you, all day long."

Rose gasped out a confession of this, because it was true.  She'd woken up this morning wanting him, and there was nothing, not even the fact that she was pinned to a wall in a remarkably clean alley, had stopped her wanting him yet.  She arched into him, felt that slow, rising burn, the languor in her limbs beginning.  Her inner muscles clenched at nothing, needing.  "Doctor!"

"Still distracted," he complained, and sucked at her other nipple, and Rose snickered because she could hardly believe he was still clinging to the game he'd started.

Then, she got inspired.  "Might need…"  She gasped and ground against him.  He groaned.  "Need more contact.  Exchange of body fluids."

He grinned, wicked and bright in that dark corner, his face a seductive mask in the lowering shadows.  "Brilliant," he breathed, almost reverently.  "Rose, have I told you you're brilliant?"

She panted and pushed at him and strained to free her hands.  It was almost fully dark, and she had to get very close to see him.  The wall was rough against her back, but she arched her shoulders toward his anyway. "Doctor!"

"You'll have to be quiet, now," he cautioned, as the street lamps started to come up at the end of the alley.  "Even on religious occasions, there'll still be patrols…"

"Don't care," she complained, and nipped at his jaw with her sharp teeth.

He gasped.  "Me too," he whispered.  He pulled away from her and Rose almost wailed at the loss of him and his hardness and the honeyed-time smell of his arousal.  There was something wooden nearby, which Rose identified by the clatter as the Doctor kicked it over next to her feet.  "Stand on that," he ordered.  Rose did as she was told and it put her at exactly the right height. 

"Perfect," she murmured and leaned forward to coax him closer.  He didn't resist, both hands threading through her hair as he held her face just so and tormented her with a slow, flickering kiss.  

Rose used the opportunity to plant her hands on his bottom, tugging his hips closer so she could find the friction she needed.  It couldn't possibly take very long, not really, not as hot as she was, as hard as he was.  She pushed against him and he pushed back, fitting into the space between her thighs as she parted them for him.  He hiked up her dress around her hips, and the cooling stone was almost soothing against her backside.

"Nice knickers," he said.  He couldn't even see them, Rose knew that, not in the dark, especially since he wasn't looking at them, just finding a way to slip his fingers under them.  Then, he succeeded and she didn't actually care anymore anyway.  His fingers slipped and slid into her folds, finding her wet and wanton as she ground against him.  "Oh," he said, a tiny, relieved little gasp.

Rose undid the clasp on his trousers and, mindful of the zip, carefully released him from confinement.  The Doctor bucked helplessly against her, swearing in soft chiming syllables against her throat as she stroked him.  He fought back with fingers dipping inside her, and for a moment there was only the awkward rhythm of two lovers wanting more than they could manage at that time.

"Maybe if I…" Rose suggested, hiking a leg up around his skinny hip.

The Doctor grinned against her throat and chuckled and his hips pressed her into the wall while she leaned from her perch.  Then, he was bending and lifting at once, and she was impaled by his cock, one leg wrapped around his waist, the other the only balance she had in the world.  He slipped just a little, while Rose struggled to stay upright and get some desperately needed friction at once.

"Let go," the Doctor grated, and his other hand caught her behind the knee.

"Can you?" she wondered, though it was very obvious he could, for he was supporting her weight in a second.

"Yes," he grunted, and pressed her into the wall and, spreading his legs just a little wider, he began a punishing rhythm, his hands splayed at the backs of her thighs, almost lifting her with every thrust.  "Precious Rose, so pretty.  Perfect perky bouncy breasts…" He made himself a filthy tongue twister and if Rose wasn't too busy with other things, she might've snickered or at least rolled her eyes.

Instead, she was trying to twist her body just a little.  He was rubbing against her with every movement, but it wasn't quite enough.  She scrabbled at his shoulders, and pressed her back harder against the scratchy wall, using the leverage to raise herself against him, find a better angle.  Rose was focused on orgasms quite single-mindedly, wanted her to come and him to come, and as far as she cared that was all, ever.  "Please, gonna, wanna… Please, Doctor?"

"Rose," he groaned against her, a very long syllable, drawn out as he pulled her tight to him.  "Can't… sorry.  I… please, Rose!"

He jerked hard against her as he lost control, coming with only a muffled noise as he buried his face in her neck.  Rose gave in to it all, the cold blast inside her, the twitching and pulsing of his cock.  The sharp jabs of his pelvis against her clit were all she could take, and everything just clenched.  She came almost quietly for once, every muscle in her body too tense for her to even squeak, and then suddenly completely loose and free while incredible pleasure washed over her. 

She found herself giggling into his chest as he lowered her to her feet.  Her knees tried to buckle, so she clung to the Doctor while he tried to straighten their clothing.  They were too disheveled to save the world at the moment, she was sure of it.

He gave her a look that was almost shy as he looked up from trying to tuck his shirt into his trousers.  Rose grinned and licked his chin and stepped down off her handy step stool, whatever it was.  He laughed, though a little nervously.  "All right?" he asked.

She fell in love with the Doctor at least six times a day, Rose knew.  Her heart soared and bounced, giddy and silly and unable to believe how soft and real it felt this time.  "Never better," she said, and meant it this time, too.

He blushed just a little, then nodded, and Rose took his arm, as delighted in his innocence as she was in his mayhem.  "Next time, it's my turn," she decided.

The Doctor grinned.  "Oh, really?" he growled.

Not too innocent.

She gave him a look that promised mortal sin and he gave her a smile that promised to roll in it.  Then, they put their lives back on and went to find the alien artefact.

"Although," Rose said, as she pushed the pub door open, "I do want to be sure your distraction's cured."

The Doctor sighed, and his hand reached to cup her bum, almost as if he couldn't help it.  "Not really," he admitted.  "But it'll wait.  This time."

Rose laughed again.  "Promises, promises."  



End file.
